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“I would like to go on record and say this is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had,” Lan Jingyi declares, “and that’s saying something.” He shoulders his backpack and snags a sleeping bag from the pile behind Suburban.
“Including the time we all bleached our hair?” Ouyang Zizhen asks with easy humor. “Because that was pretty bad.”
“I think if we hadn’t bleached our eyebrows as well, it would have been okay,” Lan Sizhui says. He hands his cousin a heavy flashlight. “Hold onto this, Jingyi. You can use it to bash any fierce corpses or monsters that come our way.”
He says this with complete sincerity, so Jingyi bites back the angry retort that crowds his mouth and mutters instead, “It’s not the tangible monsters I’m worried about.”
“Fairy’ll warn us if anything approaches the barrier,” Jin Ling says scornfully as he ties four yoga mats together with a strap so he can carry them all at once, “but if you’re really such a fraidy cat, you can share the cabin with Uncle Wei and Hanguang-Jun.”
“You’re the monster,” Jingyi retorts.
“It’s just one night,” Zizhen says. He dumps a couple bags of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers, and several chocolate bars into a plastic shopping tote. “Just until the other uncles get here.”
“They won’t do anything if you’re in the cabin,” Sizhui offers.
“They’ll talk,” Jingyi says. “They’ll be all, like, romantic and shit, and it’s awful.” He fills a cooler with large water bottles and some non-sugary snacks for Sizhui.
“I think it’s sweet,” Zizhen says. “Imagine being that old and married forever and still being romantic.” He yelps when a hand lands on his shoulder.
“Forty is not old, young Zizhen,” Wei Ying says, “and if you’d like to live to see that I’m right, you should be careful who you insult.”
“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan joins them at the back of the Suburban. “A-Yuan, do you have the talismans for the bonfire? And the appropriate supplies for a protective array?”
Sizhui takes a handful of paper from the pouch belted at his waist. “Yes, Baba, I’ve got enough. And Jin Ling has some from Shushu.”
“A-Cheng doesn’t trust me to supply you all with the highest quality talismans?” Wei Ying pouts.
Jin Ling rolls his eyes. “Jiujiu doesn’t trust anyone.”
Wei Ying brightens. “That’s true! Well, Lan Zhan, it seems that our babies are ready to fly off into the wilderness on their own! Fly, birdies, and leave the withered husks of your beloved uncles slash papas to crumble into dust!”
Zizhen laughs as Wei Ying wraps a long-suffering Sizhui in his arms and peppers his cheeks with kisses. “I thought you said you weren’t old, Mister Wei.”
“We’re only gonna be like a hundred meters away, geez,” Jin Ling gripes.
“Yeah,” Jingyi adds, “we’ll still be able to hear you.” He glares at Wei Ying as hard as he dares.
“We will keep an ear out, should you require assistance,” Lan Zhan assures him, “but we trust you will be well.”
“Let’s go already! I need to get Fairy out of the car.”
“And that’s my cue!” Wei Ying cries. He kisses Sizhui once more, then dashes around and plants a kiss on the other boys’ cheeks, and hustles back into the cabin. Lan Zhan is more sedate, offering each boy a pat on the shoulder, before he joins Wei Ying inside.
“Finally!” Jin Ling lets Fairy out of her crate in the back of the Suburban and gives her belly a thorough rub. “Jingyi, you got the snacks?”
“Yes, Princess, I’ve got them.”
“And I’ve got the Uno deck,” Zizhen announces, cutting off Jin Ling’s angry spluttering at the mention of his detested nickname, “and I’m gonna clean your clocks, so let’s go set up our camp!”
Jingyi has to admit, if only to himself, that he’s enjoying the start of their camping trip. Sizhui’s talismans keep the bonfire crackling but safely contained in the rock fire pit. He’s eaten his weight in s’mores, but he keeps toasting marshmallows to a perfect golden brown and passing them over to Jin Ling, a sort of peace offering for teasing him earlier. He really should stop calling him Princess, but it’s a hard habit to break.
“Anyone want another marshmallow?” he asks, shaking the bag.
Zizhen and Sizhui groan in unison.
“I’ll take that as a no. Pr-Jin Ling? How ‘bout you?”
Jin Ling glares at Jingyi, but he just shakes his head.
“Are we gonna tell spooky stories?” Zizhen asks. “My sister told me the best one, about this guy that lives in a cottage at the edge of a forest, but the forest is like part of some kind of other world? And he hears his husband calling for him every night? Except his husband has been dead for seven years or something? But it’s really so much like his voice, and he knows things, and —“
“No!” Jingyi cuts in. “No, no way. Nope.”
“Aw, c’mon, Yi-Yi, it’s such a good story! It’s really romantic and only forty percent scary. It’s really about the eternal bond of love and —“
“No! Gross!” This time Jin Ling interrupts. “How do you always ruin a good story with mushy stuff, Zizhen?”
“Love isn’t gross, Jin Ling! It’s the most beautiful, important thing in the world. No. In the universe! You’re just too—“
“We could play a game,” Sizhui, ever the peacemaker, interrupts.
“A drinking game?” Jingyi perks up.
Sizhui rolls his eyes. “No, Jingyi.”
“Good call, probably.” Jingyi doesn’t actually like to drink, and he’s not eager for a repeat of the evening when they snuck a jar of Uncle Wei’s Emperor’s Smile. If nothing else, he never, ever again wants to see the look of sad disappointment that Auntie Yanli turned on them. “What game do you want to play? Oh, am I going to beat Jin Ling at Uno finally?”
“We should save that for tomorrow, when we can use the table in the cabin. No, I learned a game at the camp I worked at.”
“A little kid’s game?” Jingyi whines.
“It’ll be fun, I promise.” Sizhui stands and stretches. “Let’s set up on this side of the fire.” He gestures to the fallen tree that borders one side of the clearing. “Jingyi, you put your mat and sleeping bag here so you can put your back up against the tree. I’ll sit on your left, Zizhen, sit on his right, and Jin Ling, you and Fairy can sit with your backs to the fire and face Jingyi.”
Jingyi flashes his cousin a grin, grateful that he always remembers how much better Jingyi feels having something solid at his back when they’re out camping or patrolling with their many uncles on night hunts. The boys settle into their places and sit in a square. Fairy exhales a sleepy whuff and snuggles up behind her Jin Ling.
“Okay,” Sizhui says once they’re situated, “it’s a pretty simple game, kind of like Simon Says. Mister Song called it In the Pond, Out of the Pond. It works a little better with more people, but we can make it work. I’ll be the first caller, and you three play. If I say ‘in the pond,’ you put your hands out in the middle. If I say ‘out of the pond,’ you put your hands over your head. If I say ‘on the bank,’ put your hands on your thighs. If you do the wrong move, you’re out. Last one left in is the winner.”
“This is gonna be cake,” Jingyi says.
“Sounds fun,” Zizhen agrees.
Jin Ling puts his hands flat on his thighs and squares his shoulders. “Let’s do this.”
It takes a few rounds to really get the hang of things, but soon enough, delighted, boyish laughter rings through the trees as they play. By the time the sliver of waning moon is high over the clearing, their sides ache and a pleasant exhaustion has set in.
“I’m done!” Zizhen declares, throwing up his hands. “I can’t even see straight. Let’s call it a night, lads.”
“Lads?” Jin Ling scoffs.
“Friends,” Zizhen says easily, “buddies, gang, sworn brothers. Take your pick. But I’m falling asleep here, and we still need to set the barrier array.”
“So we’re really sleeping out here?” Jingyi says, voice small.
“It’ll be alright,” Sizhui says as he puts an arm around his cousin’s shoulders, “I promise.”
“Jiujiu’s arrays are the strongest ever,” Jin Ling says. “You know how much Baba worries about me, like I’m some kind of baby. Jiujiu promised Baba that his arrays would stop even a demon bear.”
Jingyi sighs. “Fine, fine, okay. But if I get eaten by something, I’m gonna haunt your ass for eternity.”
“Just my ass?” Jin Ling elbows Jingyi. “Weirdo.”
“Yeah,” Jingyi says, “and every time you —“
“Speaking of asses,” Zizhen says loudly over the ensuing friendly scuffling, “I’m gonna walk back to the outhouse behind the cabin. Anyone wanna come with me?”
Jingyi grabs the flashlight. “Yeah, I’ll go.”
“Me, too,” Jin Ling says. “Sizhui?”
“I’m good. I’ll put out the fire.”
“I’ll leave Fairy with you.”
It takes no time at all to set up their little camp. They’ve been sleeping out in backyards since they were in kindergarten. Sizhui places a battery powered lantern by each sleeping bag before dousing the campfire. Jingyi and Zizhen place talismans around the perimeter of the clearing while Jin Ling charges the protective array. Once they’re all safely inside, Jin Ling activates the array. A net of shivering green and purple light flickers over their campsite then fades, leaving only the spill of the Milky Way and bow of the moon over them.
Zizhen and Sizhui fall asleep almost immediately, and Jingyi tries not to be jealous of the ease with which his cousin and best friend exist in the world. Jin Ling stomps through his world like his jiujiu as he goes, and he expects everyone and everything to get out of his way. Jingyi, however, has heard practically from birth how very unlike his family he is, how out of place. Cultivators do not fear ghosts and monsters. They do not tuck themselves against fallen trees, scrunched in the space between wood and ground. They vanquish fierce corpses and break curses.
It’s not that Jingyi is afraid of these things. Not the beings themselves. He is the Un-Lan Lan, which means someday, he’ll fail. Someday, he’ll lose. So why not put off the inevitable and keep himself out of harm’s way?
“You’re thinking too loud,” Jin Ling mutters from the darkness past Jingyi’s feet.
“Then stop listening,” Jingyi snaps.
Jin Ling mutters again, and Jingyi swears he hears the word brat in Jin Ling’s grumpy monologue, but it’s lost under the rustle of sleeping bags. Jingyi startles when a sleeping bag hits the ground in front of him.
“D’you need more room?” Jin Ling grumbles.
Jingyi shifts to give himself a bit of space in case he wants to roll over. “‘M good now.”
Jin Ling puts his lantern by Jingyi’s, shakes out his own sleeping bag and sets up his bed about six inches from Jingyi. “Fairy,” he says as he crawls into his sleeping bag and lies with his back to Jingyi, “feet.” Fairy flops down at their feet and rests her head on Jingyi’s calf.
“What’re you—“
“Just go to sleep,” Jin Ling commands. He reaches back and awkwardly pats Jingyi’s shoulder (well, he half smacks Jingyi in the face). “We’ll be here.”
“Oh.” Jingyi wiggles until he’s comfortable. “Thanks. Night, Ling-Ling.”
Jin Ling yawns. “Night.”
Jingyi takes a deep, contented breath as Fairy nuzzles his leg. If his friends are willing to stay by his side, then maybe it’s not so bad being the Un-Lan Lan.